to play at questions and commands. This game in fact soon began. “Thunder and lightning!” said Mr. Tempest discovering what it was, “is this to be endured?”
If the mere possibility of such an issue had alarmed him, how much more sensible was his affliction when he saw as a matter of fact laid visibly before his bodily eyes that every fool and coxcomb availed himself of the privilege of the game to give to Ida—his own destined bride—kisses[1] without let or hindrance; “whilst I,” said he, “I—John Tempest—have never yet been blessed with one.”
But if the sight of such liberties taken with his blooming Ida placed him on the brink of desperation, much more desperate did he become when that sight was shut out by that “consummate villain” (as he chose to style him) the footman, who at this moment took it into his head or was ordered to let down the curtains. Behind the curtains,—ah! ye Gods, what scenes might not pass!
“This must be put a stop to,” said Mr. Tempest taking his hat and cane, and walking into the street. Aye: but how? This was a question he could not answer. Wandering, therefore, up and down the streets until it had become quite dark, he returned at length to the point from which he had set out, and found that one nuisance at least—viz. the kissing, had ceased; and had given place to a concert. For Ida’s musical talents and fine voice were well known; and she was generally called the little Catalani. She was now singing; and a crowd of persons had collected under the window to hear her, who seemed by their looks to curse every passer-by for the disturbance he made. Mr. Tempest crept on tip-toe to join the crowd of listeners, and was enraptured by the sweet tones of Ida’s voice. After the conclusion of the air, and when the usual hubbub of enchanting! divine! &c. had rung out its peal, the by-standers outside began to talk of the masquerade. In the crowd were some of those who had been invited: and one amongst them was flattering himself that nobody would recognize him before he should unmask.
CHAPTER XIV.
The Death’s-head Masque.
Thus much information Mr. Tempest drew from this casual conversation that he found it would not be required of the masquers to announce their names to any person on their arrival. Upon this hint he grounded a plan for taking a part in the masqued ball. By good luck he was already provided with a black domino against the winter masquerades, at the public rooms: this domino was so contrived that the head of the wearer was hidden under the cloak, in which an imperceptible opening was made for the eyes: the real head thus became a pair of shoulders; and upon this was placed a false head which, when lifted up, exposed a white skull with eyeless sockets and grinning with a set of brilliantly white teeth at the curious spectator.
Having settled his scheme, Mr. Tempest withdrew to his own lodgings in order to make preparations for its execution.
CHAPTER XV.
It’s only I.
The company at Mr. Goodchild’s consisted of two divisions: No. 1, embracing the elder or more fashionable persons and those who were nearly connected with the family, had been invited to tea, supper, and a masqued ball: No. 2, the younger and less distinguished persons, had been invited to the ball only. This arrangement, which proceeded from the penurious disposition of Mr. Goodchild, had on this occasion the hearty approbation of Mr. Tempest: about eleven o’clock therefore, when a great part of the guests in the second division had already arrived, he ordered a sedan-chair to be fetched; and then, causing himself to be carried up and down through several streets, that nobody might dis-
- ↑ The reader must remember that the scene is laid in Germany. This and other instances of grossiérete have been purposely retained in illustration of German manners.
